


Three Christmas Eves

by Squidalicious



Series: Pure Romance Oneshots [6]
Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Misaki and Akihiko, Christmas Special, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11888370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squidalicious/pseuds/Squidalicious
Summary: Three Christmas Eves. Ten years between each of them. Two wishing souls, who were destined to become one.





	Three Christmas Eves

The snowman gleamed with pale, midwinter moonlight. It was a rather solitary figure, standing all alone on the wide expanse of the manor grounds, with nothing but shadowy, skeletal trees for company. There was a certain eeriness about it. In fact, what with the pale glow it gave off amidst the darkness, it looked almost like something spectral; a wandering ghost, perhaps, haunting the manor grounds. Not quite what Akihiko had been going for.

The eight-year-old was on tiptoes at his bedroom window, nose and fingertips resting on the ledge. A pair of round, lavender eyes peered down at his creation. It didn't look much like the typical, jolly snowmen in Christmas cartoons, as he'd have liked it to. There was no pipe or top hat; Akihiko would have had to raid his father's wardrobe for anything like that, which was out of the question. Pinching a carrot from the kitchen for a nose was also too risky, and when he'd tried climbing a tree so he could snap off a couple of dead branches his mother had shouted at him, so the snowman didn't even have any arms. All Akihiko had managed to provide were a couple of eyes (at least he'd done that bit right; they were real coal, smuggled out of the fireplace in Akihiko's room before Tanaka lit them) that seemed to stare back up at the young boy, black and vaguely reproachful, as if to say _why am I only half-finished, you dumb kid?_

Shuddering, Akihiko stepped away from the window. He wouldn't give up hope just yet. Maybe the snowman would still be a friendly one… He frowned doubtfully, wrapping his dressing gown around himself. He knew he'd be angry if someone forgot to give him a pair of arms.

His brother Haruhiko had sneered when he'd seen him out in the garden, patting the snowy mound into a barely humanoid figure. Akihiko, undeterred, had simply stuck his nose up.

"All the other kids do it," he'd said, scooping up more snow.

"How would you know?" Haruhiko had replied. "You have so few friends that you're actually having to _build_ one for yourself."

Pretending not to care, Akihiko had waited for his brother to crunch away up the drive, and then wiped his face. His sooty gloves had left a black smudge on his cheek.

 _Yeah, well_ , he thought as he stood in his bedroom. _We'll see who's laughing when my snowman's alive._ Akihiko tingled with excitement at the thought. His brother had said it wouldn't work, but Akihiko knew it would because he'd watched a video about it at school, on the last day of term. In it, a lonely little boy just like Akihiko had built a man out of snow, and on Christmas Eve it had magically come to life and taken him flying across the country, over beautiful snowy rooftops and seas, all the way to the North Pole where they'd danced with Santa and the other snowmen all night long.

True, the story had ended on a rather gloomy note as the snowman had melted away the next morning, but this hadn't discouraged Akihiko. He knew the magic couldn't last forever. All he wished for was someone- anyone- to be his friend for a day. Just one Christmas where he wasn't alone.

And if it had worked for the boy in the video, why not him?

He peeked outside again. Like every year, the snow was deep and smooth and untouched. The bare trees were sagging with it. It glittered like the stars above it. When Akihiko saw it like this in the dead of night, rolling across the countryside in gentle, frozen waves for as far as the eye could see, like a vast white ocean, he felt more than ever like he was a million miles away from anything. From anyone.

The snowman still hadn't moved. Akihiko's stomach tightened just a little, but he told himself it was okay. After all, the boy in the story had been asleep when the snowman woke him. Maybe Akihiko needed to be asleep for it to work? Yes, that must be it; Santa's magic wasn't meant to be seen in action, not by children's eyes.

However, as he was padding towards the four-poster bed in his slippers, Akihiko paused. His head turned in the direction of the fireplace. Only embers remained in the hearth, glowing orangey-red against the mince pie and glass of milk that Akihiko had left there for Santa. He'd though that would be enough, but… perhaps he should also write him a letter? Yes, a letter. Just in case.

Retrieving his notebook and pencil from under his pillow (he liked to keep them there in case of a noteworthy dream, or sudden story ideas at two in the morning), Akihiko carried them over to the fireplace. There he settled himself in front of the hearth. As quietly as he could, he tore out a sheet of paper and, leaning on his notebook and relying on the dying firelight to see, he began to write.

 _Dear Santa-san_ (they called him 'Father Christmas' here in England, but Akihiko preferred the Japanese name. He figured the jolly saint wouldn't mind) _,_

_I am sorry this letter is so late. I am also sorry if any of my English is wrong. I do not usually write to you, but this year I have been very good and I also have a wish that I really really need to come true._

He hesitated, chewing his pencil, before continuing:

_I do not want any toys. I do not even want any books or bears. I only want somebody to play with on Christmas day._

_I have made a friend for myself out of snow. You can find him outside my bedroom. If it is not too much trouble, will you please bring him to life so I can play with him?_

The pencil tapped the paper several times.

_Only for a day. Please._

He should end it there before it got too long. Akihiko thought for a moment. What was that English phrase his father always put at the end of letters? Ah, yes-

_Yours sincerely, Akihiko Usami (age 8)_

_P.S. Haruhiko has not been good so please give him lots of coal._

_P.P.S. It would also be nice if you could give the snowman some arms._

There. Satisfied after re-reading the letter twice, Akihiko laid the page to one side before slowly, carefully moving the guard away from the hearth. He wasn't supposed to go near the fire- he was supposed to ask a servant to do it- but it was necessary if he wanted his letter sent on time. Besides, it was Akihiko's room, wasn't it?

A small pile of chopped wood sat in a basket beside the fireplace. Taking a decent-sized one, Akihiko reached gingerly into the hearth and dropped it on top of the dimming embers. Then he pointed the ancient pair of bellows towards it, just like he'd seen Tanaka do, and gently pumped them once, twice, three times. Bright orange sparks danced.

Once the flames had grown and Akihiko could feel their heat on his face, he picked up his letter. He was careful not to set it or himself alight as he reached into the fireplace again. No sooner had he opened his hand did the draft from the flames snatch it away from him, sending it flying upwards. It disappeared up the chimney chute with a rustle.

Akihiko sat there a moment longer, smiling faintly, the firelight flickering in his eyes. Then he rose to his feet.

There was an empty mug on his bedside table from when Tanaka had brought him his evening cocoa. Akihiko carried it on its tray to the door and left it on the floor outside, where a servant would clear it. Then he adjusted the mince pie and glass of milk again, making sure they were in a spot where Santa would see them. Finally, he opened his chest of drawers, pulled out the freshly washed and ironed stocking with his name on it, and hung it on his bedpost.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Akihiko worried briefly that the fire wouldn't die down by the time Santa arrived and he wouldn't be able to visit Akihiko. But, he realised as he shuffled out of his slippers and dressing gown, he could always use one of the other chimneys. Besides, his bedroom was warm now, and bathed in a soft orange glow.

He snuggled under the padded quilt of his four-poster and lay still for a while, listening. The wind outside was moaning; he could hear it shaking the tree branches. The fire crackled. Now and then a creak or a groan would sound from somewhere deep within the manor, which dated back to Victorian times and was forever complaining of its old age.

Akihiko didn't bother calling goodnight to his parents. They wouldn't care if he did. In fact, when he was shut away out of their sight like this, Akihiko was pretty sure they forgot he even existed.

Usually this bothered the small boy, and he would lie awake and thinking about it for hours. But not tonight. Unlike most children, Christmas Eve was the one night of the year Akihiko was able to fall asleep without any trouble.

For even if his parents saw him as a non-entity, even if his brother hated him, even if he had no friends at school, every year a kindly old man was still willing to fly, through cold wind and snow, all the way across the world to Akihiko's house and squeeze down his dirty chimney chute, just so that his one wish would be granted…

That meant there was _somebody_ who cared about him, right?

Turning his head on his pillow, Akihiko gazed out through the window into the night sky. Perhaps if he watched it for long enough, he'd catch a glimpse of Santa and his reindeer, silhouetted against the full, silver moon?

_No, I have to sleep. It won't work if I don't sleep…_

Hurriedly, Akihiko closed his eyes. He needed this to work. It _would_ work; no matter what Haruhiko said to him ("You _do_ know those are just childish stories, don't you?"), Akihiko knew that the Christmas magic he felt in his heart right now was real.

At least… he hoped it was real. Oh, he hoped, he hoped, he hoped.

And he would keep hoping, he resolved as he lay there, all the way through the night. For as long as he hoped, he could believe that he would wake up tomorrow and run to the window to see his snowman friend waiting for him, smiling and waving, and the two of them would swoop into the sky away from the old, dusty manor and Akihiko's sneering brother and stone-faced parents, to some place far, far off where they would play together all day long.

That was the key. He just had to keep believing.

"Please, Santa-san," his small voice whispered into the night, "let me share this Christmas with someone else."

A whistle of wind was his only answer. Closing his eyes once again, Akihiko sighed, and drifted gradually into contented dreams wherein he and his snowman friend were soaring through the sky, the stars twinkling above them, the trees and rooftops spread out under a blanket of pure white snow below.

* * *

Ten years later, halfway across the world in the heart of Tokyo, another eight-year-old boy was also whiling away Christmas Eve in front of his window.

He couldn't see much. Whilst it rarely snowed in the city, frost was a regular occurrence, and today there was a thin layer clinging to the glass in front of Misaki's face. It made feathered patterns across the window pane. They were pretty, but they distorted his view. Not that there was a whole lot to look at anyway; the sky this evening was as dull and grey as concrete, blending in almost flawlessly with the countless, colourless buildings that made up the skyline. That was all Misaki could see through his icy window. A grey smudge.

Absently, he dragged a finger along the steamed-up inside of the glass. Droplets of condensation gathered and rolled down the window, like tears. Misaki exhaled, slowly, and even though he was indoors he swore he could see his own breath. Everything was frozen.

On that particular Christmas Eve, in fact, Misaki felt frozen too.

Retracting his numb finger, the boy returned to sitting cross-legged on his futon. His new room was still rather bare, with a thin, frayed carpet and walls of cracked plaster that his _The Kan_ posters hadn't done much to revive. It was chilly, too; the whole apartment was. Still, Misaki would never complain. He knew this was all his Nii-chan could afford.

Thinking of Takahiro, Misaki felt something clutch at his heart. His brother would usually be tucking him into bed by now, but Misaki had a feeling they wouldn't be seeing each other at all tonight. Takahiro's face had been drawn and haggard- more so than usual, that is- when he'd come home from work, with dark semi-circles cradling his eyes, and they'd barely exchanged any words over dinner. Furthermore, once Misaki had retreated to his bedroom, he was pretty sure he'd heard the clink of glass bottles coming from the living room. It was a noise he'd come to associate with his brother's very worst days.

 _Poor Nii-chan_ , Misaki thought, watching his sigh dissolve into a misty cloud. Of course he didn't blame Takahiro. The past few months had been pretty overwhelming for him- for both of them. It made sense that tonight would be one of those times where everything was simply too much for the elder Takahashi brother, to the point that he felt the need to numb himself.

No, Misaki didn't resent his brother for neglecting him tonight. Rather, he only wished there were some way- any way- for him to lessen Takahiro's burden, especially since he'd been working so hard for his little brother. If only he knew how. But (as the adults kept saying, over and over again) he was so young, too young to understand these things.

There was, however, one thing he knew he could do.

Getting off his futon, Misaki crouched on the worn carpet and lifted the mattress. It wasn't a very original hiding place, but in the tiny apartment there weren't many other options. Reaching underneath, Misaki felt around until his fingers closed around something small, soft and furry.

He pulled it out, inspected it. The teddy bear was a little squashed, its golden fur rumpled as if it had just crawled out of hibernation, but nevertheless intact. A small, red bow was tied crookedly around its neck, and Misaki adjusted it with care as he studied the plush toy, biting his lower lip.

Hopefully Takahiro would like it. It was only small, but it was the biggest one that the contents of Misaki's piggy bank was able to buy, even after weeks of scraping together savings in secret (Misaki would tell his brother that he was going to play with friends, then spend the afternoon doing chores for any stranger who would let him, scrubbing their cars or weeding their frozen gardens with frostbitten hands). Still, if he could give something back to Takahiro, however small, it was worth it. His brother had watched him work himself to the bone, day in, day out, for months now, keeping food on the table in front of Misaki and a roof over his head; he had to do _something_ in return, even if Takahiro had told him multiple times that he didn't want a Christmas present.

Besides… this was the only way Misaki knew how to make his brother smile again. Even if it was only for the briefest of moments.

Carrying the bear with him, Misaki tiptoed out into the hallway. The air here was even colder than that of his bedroom, the floorboards like ice beneath his bare feet, and goosebumps prickled his skin beneath his thin, cotton pyjamas. He shivered. When he reached the living room door Misaki paused for a moment, bracing himself; he knew what he was going to see when he opened it.

The door swung open with barely a sound. Immediately, the pungent odour of alcohol struck Misaki as he entered- nothing like the nostalgic aromas of gingerbread and friend chicken he was used to at this time of year. Peering through the gloom, Misaki's eyes wandered expectantly over to the couch and sure enough, there was the dark shadow of his older brother.

Tentatively, the small boy approached him. Takahiro lay, twisted, on his side, one arm hanging off the couch, his glasses askew and his dark hair dishevelled. An empty bottle and glass stood by his limp hand. As Misaki came closer, the even, alcohol-tinged breaths told him his brother was already asleep.

He made sure to be as silent as possible as he gathered up the bottles, depositing them in the overflowing trash can before heading to the airing cupboard in search of a blanket. Takahiro didn't once stir, even as Misaki removed his glasses and carefully re-arranged him so that he was lying more comfortably on his back. The younger boy was practised at this by now. Slipping a pillow beneath Takahiro's head and spreading the blanket over him, he stood still for a moment beside the couch, watching his brother; the steady rise and fall of his chest; the softness of his sleeping face.

Seeing him so peaceful like this, Misaki almost wished he'd never wake up.

Very, very slowly, so as not to disturb him, he lifted the corner of the blanket and tucked the teddy bear into the crook of his brother's arm. Now it would be the first thing he woke to. And maybe, just maybe, when Takahiro opened his eyes on Christmas morning to a cold, empty flat, Misaki's gift would bring him at least some measure of comfort.

He hoped so. As he watched Takahiro nuzzle the bear's golden fur in his sleep, the guilt was already eating away at Misaki's heart once again.

Unable to stay any longer, Misaki tucked the blanket under his brother's chin, and with a whispered "Merry Christmas, Nii-chan", returned to his own bedroom with stinging eyes.

The grey outside Misaki's window had blackened when he climbed back into his futon. Ice crystals glistened coldly on the glass. It was nights like this that Misaki- shivering as he lay in darkness, alone- began to feel as though the entire world had frozen over like his window, and the sun would never come up again. His life felt like one everlasting winter night. Was this how every Christmas Eve would be from now on?

He'd foolishly hoped the festive season might actually rekindle a little light for him and his brother. Misaki really should have known better. Christmas was a time for spreading love and joy, after all; a time for family.

And as of this year, the Takahashi brothers were only half a family. All Christmas had brought them was yet more darkness. They were drowning in it.

Beneath his blankets, the tremors wracking Misaki's body began to increase.

 _It's all my fault…_ The guilt was piercing him like daggers now. It was too much. He wanted all of this- the cold and the tiny apartment and his brother passed out drunk on the couch- to go away, and to wake up tomorrow in his old house, to sit in front of a warm fire and open presents with his family, to play in the snow, to eat fried chicken around the dinner table and laugh together. He choked aloud this time, "It's all my fault…"

Hot tears welled in his eyes, and the boy sat up to draw his knees into his chest, pressing both hands over his mouth to muffle his sobs. Teardrop after teardrop cascaded down his face, each one falling faster than the last, and Misaki was so cold now, he felt they might freeze to his skin.

The boy would never be sure how long he cried for; it could have been minutes or hours. All he knew with certainty was that at some point, he had ended up on his knees, clasped hands still trembling in front of him as he bowed his head.

"Santa-san," he prayed in a stuttering whisper, "I'm not sure if you're even real, but if you are, please, let me have one Christmas wish.

"Please give me my family back. Let us go home again. Let Nii-chan go to school like he wanted and be happy. He doesn't deserve what happened, and n-neither did…"

His voice began to crack. With a small, sniffly hiccup, he went on, "I miss them so much, Santa-san… I j-just want my mommy and daddy…"

Even as he spoke the words, Misaki knew it would never be. He wiped his eyes, pointlessly, before folding his hands together in his lap again.

"Or, if not them… someone. Someone to be with me at Christmas. I-I'm sorry to be so selfish, but, please, I don't want to be a-alone anymore… I n-need someone… Anyone… P-Please…"

Offered up into the blackness of that cold Christmas Eve, Misaki wept out a hundred prayers and apologies before sleep finally took him, each one leaving his lips as an icy mist that drifted away into the night.

* * *

Tokyo saw another ten Christmases before either boy's wish was granted.

The last of these Christmas Eves was drawing to a close, and all across the city the festivities were gradually winding down. Huge neon stars and snowflakes flickered out; the combined lilt of laughter and Christmas carols slowly died away; shops and restaurants closed their shutters, households clicked their lights out one by one, and the world settled into a peaceful slumber beneath the stars as it awaited the special day.

Eventually, only one window remained lit within the quiet city. Right at the top of a towering condominium, a square of warm, yellow light shone out into the night sky.

It was spacious yet cosy inside the penthouse suite. The glow was coming from the abundance of fairy lights that were strung about the apartment, snaking around banisters and doorways, softening and brightening again in a mesmerising pattern. A huge fir tree stood in the middle of the living room, and they were wrapped around that also; they twinkled in the shiny surfaces of each colourful adornment lining the branches, red and gold and silver and blue and green. A star at the very top completed the scenery, glittering down at the two figures below.

Akihiko and Misaki- no longer young, lost souls but grown men- exchanged no words as they lay on the couch at the foot of the tree. All was silent save for the ticking of the landing clock, their own breaths and Akihiko's heartbeat, which was slowly lulling Misaki into sleepiness as he rested his head against the older man's chest. Long fingers nestled in his dark hair. Neither of them felt the need to say anything; for the first time in what seemed like forever, they were both as content as could be.

Because after so many years of loneliness, something- be it pure chance, the fabled festive magic or simply fate- had finally brought them together for Christmas Eve.

Both men had their eyes closed as they stayed wrapped in each other's warmth, but they cracked them open at the sound of a tuneful, high-pitched bell, drifting down the stairs towards them; the clock, chiming twelve times. It was midnight.

A small finger poked Akihiko's chin.

"Hey. Merry Christmas, stupid rabbit."

Misaki's voice was drowsy but playful. Smiling, Akihiko snuck a hand under the younger man's chin and tilted his face upwards. A pair of eyes greener than any Christmas tree met his own, hazy with sleep but sparkling with happiness. Akihiko didn't stop gazing into them for a moment as he melted into soft lips. They kissed long and lovingly, only drawing apart for air, and Akihiko admired Misaki's pink blush for a moment before tucking the dark head beneath his chin again, whispering into silky, sweet-smelling hair.

"Merry Christmas, my love."

And so, at last, it was.


End file.
